


Four Paintings and A Blown Cover

by odd_izzy



Category: Batman - All Media Types, White Collar (TV 2009)
Genre: Batfamily (DCU), Crossover, Family Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Identity Reveal, Minor Selina Kyle/Bruce Wayne, Neal Caffrey is Dick Grayson
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-20 17:08:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30008190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/odd_izzy/pseuds/odd_izzy
Summary: Four seemingly random valuable paintings were stolen from Wayne Enterprises' New York building - they were in different parts of the building, were all by different artists, and seemingly have nothing in common. The thief would have had to go past several much more valuable paintings than some of the ones they took. This might mean something personal, which means that Peter and Neal are headed to talk to the owner of the paintings, and of the building, and, in fact, the entire company.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Peter Burke & Neal Caffrey
Comments: 28
Kudos: 135





	Four Paintings and A Blown Cover

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Spnfandom8](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spnfandom8/gifts).



> This fic is a present for a few lovely people over on the discord server for the Batman/White Collar crossover fandom, now known as Undercover Bats. That's Spnfandom8, as marked in the gifts, RainyDaze, who I couldn't find an Ao3 for, and Psudopod, who doesn't have an Ao3 account. They let me vent at them and gave me kindness and reassurance when I really needed it. Thanks guys!  
> This is my first ever foray into writing Batman/White Collar, but I've been reading it for as long as people have been writing it, so hopefully this isn't too bad for a first attempt! Hi to anyone from the server!  
> I am very much still taking prompts, and I'm willing to write for any fandom I know anything about, so leave them in comments if you have them!

**Four Paintings and a Blown Cover**

**Chapter One**

It was now the standard routine at the FBI New York White Collar office, as much as Peter hated to admit it. Whenever there was a case any more exciting than mortgage fraud, it would inevitably involve Neal getting to do something he enjoyed. Getting to play a character and run a con on somebody, just like what Mozzie called ‘the good old days’, or getting himself into some sort of ludicrous dangerous situation that Peter was never quite sure how he’d gotten out of. Neal had joked once that one of a thief’s greatest assets was pure, stupid, blind luck. Peter didn’t believe in luck. He had slightly more conviction in his lack of belief before he started working with Neal Caffrey.

There was something uncanny about it, really – Peter knew that Neal had a broad and varied range of skills and knowledge, but he always seemed to know just the right thing for their case, and he’d pulled skills out that seemed inconceivable to all exist in one person. Nobody should be that good at speaking so many different languages, a huge range of artistic disciplines, charming everyone they meet, and the weird collection of physical skills, only some of which could have been useful to Neal professionally, that he had to have learnt or been taught at some point.

Peter wasn’t totally sure about any kind of higher power – he was an evidence man, and he’d seen far too many cons and tricks to have any kind of faith in miracles. But if Neal didn’t have at bare minimum a fairy godmother… The better explanations all sounded even more ridiculous. Neal seemed off his game, though, and out of his usual luck, when the White Collar team were put on a new high profile and very secretive case involving a company based on Gotham.

It started small – when Neal came into the office and made to toss his hat onto his little Socrates bust like always, he overheard the word ‘Gotham’ somewhere in the office. And he missed. The entire office descended gradually into shocked silence as Neal Caffrey had to bend down and pick his hat up off the floor. He tried to just play it off casually, dusting the hat off and carefully placing it on its usual perch, but the damage was done. The office now knew that it was possible for Neal Caffrey to fail to do something gracefully and suavely, and some part of the myth around him dissolved.

And if that was a sign that the very mention of Gotham cursed Neal to clumsiness, it was nothing compared to when he actually joined the briefing and learnt what their case was. The New York headquarters of Wayne Enterprises had been burgled of four valuable paintings belonging to the Wayne family. It was a bit of a strange case – there were lots of valuable paintings in the building, as it was a good way to impress guests and semi-publically display works of art that would otherwise be crammed into private family residences. But the four that had been stolen were in completely different parts of the building, widely ranged in value, and were all by different artists. Unless there was something else that they didn’t know about these four paintings in particular, Peter’s team were drawing a blank on why the thief chose them.

Peter brought photos of the four paintings up on the screen, in case someone could spot any pattern. He glanced at Neal out of the corner of his eye, hoping for some kind of revelation that would make them all feel stupid about how these paintings were obviously all… something. Peter had already gone through whether they could have been stolen in the Holocaust, something they encountered tragically often in White Collar that had resulted in a number of ownership disputes. The painters were all from different counties, different periods, and painted different subjects. Neal’s reaction wasn’t his usual smug ‘I’ve figured it out when none of you could’ smile, though. He made an expression like something had suddenly clicked, he went a little pale, and then he tried to casually lean back against the door and stumbled.

He caught himself before he fell over completely, but he still fell against the door and made enough of a noise that everyone inside and outside of the conference room looked at him. The sheepish grin he gave them is terrifyingly un-Neal. Peter had the sudden bizarre feeling that he’s looking at an imposter.

That’s ridiculous, of course. Neal was back to his usual self in a matter of seconds, with his easy smile and casual grace. But just to be sure, Peter asked him what he can tell them about the four paintings. Neal loves lecturing them all about art – Peter thought that in another life Neal would have made a great teacher, because it’s clear how much he enjoys talking to a room full of reasonably knowledgeable people. Peter convinced himself that he imagined the way Neal hesitated before he started walked around the table to stand by the screen and start talking.

“As Peter already pointed out, these are all by very different artists – several different centuries, different countries, and so totally different art movements and techniques. And I’m sure I don’t need to point out that the subjects are different too, although that might be a little bit debatable.”

That sends a ripple of laughter through the room – Neal is gesturing to the abstract piece, a reference to Peter and Neal’s frequent debate about whether it’s possible to tell what the subject of abstract art is without the title as a guide. As far as Peter is concerned, the weird mess of colours could have the same inspiration as the landscape, the picture of ballerinas, or the bowl of fruit.

“It’s hard to say exactly how valuable these specific paintings are, because most of them have been in the Wayne family for generations and the monetary value of art is decided by the most recent time it was sold. But on the black market, the Degas and the Inness would be worth hundreds of thousands each, the Degas possibly more so than usual due to a recent increase in interest in the impressionists, and the Caravaggio and the Kandinsky would be worth millions. The Caravaggio is hundreds of years old and has to be kept in a special climate-regulating case, the Degas and the Inness are both from the 19th century, and the Kandinsky from the 20th. French, American, Italian, Russian. Two of them could be described as impressionists, three of them are considered to make excellent use of light, two of them might have been gay, three of them spent time in France. Just from seeing photographs it’s hard to be completely sure, but if any of them are forgeries then they’re very good ones. The only thing they all have in common is that these are all oil on canvas paintings.”

“Along with probably more than half of the other paintings in that building, including more valuable ones that the thief walked right past?” Peter asked, already knowing the answer.

Neal nodded. “There is absolutely zero chance that these were the only four oil paintings in that building.” He paused for a moment, as if steeling himself for what he had to say next. “I suggest that you talk to the owner. There’s a chance that there might be something in their provenance or the family history that connects them that isn’t in our information.”

Peter watched Neal carefully for a moment, but couldn’t decipher the expression on his face. Addressing the room, Peter wrapped up the briefing by handing out jobs – there were people put on coordinating with WE security to make sure there weren’t any more paintings stolen, some people put on monitoring the usual black market art sites to watch for these paintings popping up, and a few on researching anything they could find on the history of these specific paintings. He assigned the job of going to the WE building and talking to Bruce Wayne to himself and Neal, and didn’t miss Neal’s sigh of resignation.

* * *

Peter thought he knew exactly what to expect from Bruce Wayne – a bright, white, media-perfect smile, a firm handshake, and no brain whatsoever. Even though he never read the celebrity gossip more than he had to for his job, Peter was well aware of Bruce Wayne’s lifestyle and public image. The man became a billionaire at a young age when he became an orphan, and with no parents to rein him in had been a party machine since he was a teenager, with a new pack of supermodels and a new fast car to crash every week. He was a figurehead for his family company rather than any kind of real decision maker, which was probably for the best for everyone, and they were going to meet the real head of WE, Lucius Fox, at the same time.

Bruce Wayne certainly wasn’t someone Peter could bring himself to hate, though. He had done some admirable things for charity, or had at least signed off on his money going to whatever local venture his PR team thought it should to help WE’s stock price. Most interestingly, he had adopted several children over the years, orphaned young like he had been. Peter privately thought that those kids probably weren’t as lucky as the media made them out to be – living in a mansion and being looked after by a butler was great, but any idiot could tell that with his lifestyle, there was no way Bruce Wayne was actually being any kind of parent. It would still be better than the foster system by a long shot, but those children got trotted out for special events like props to make the billionaire look good when he probably ignored them in favour of his supermodels most of the time. Besides, the oldest had disappeared the moment he turned 18 and nobody had heard from him since, and if that didn't speak volumes...

As they went up to the floor where they had been told Mr Wayne was expecting them, Neal looked uncharacteristically jittery. Peter had seen him sit almost completely still for hours at a time when he was painting, but now he looked like he was incapable of not moving for a single second, tapping his feet, shifting from side to side, and drumming his fingers against his leg. Peter really hoped that whatever was up with Neal, he would get over it quickly once they met Bruce Wayne. Airhead he may be, but he was still important enough that Peter could get in some serious trouble for setting loose a hyperactive CI on him.

They stepped out onto the floor where they were supposed to be meeting Bruce Wayne, and sure enough, there he was. He looked just like all the photos, but in three dimensions, which was perfectly normal, Peter just didn’t usually meet people who appeared on the front of gossip magazines. Sure enough, he got a bright white smile.

“You must be Agent Burke from the FBI, they just called to let me know you were on your way up. Very nice to meet you, I’m Bruce Wayne,” said Bruce Wayne, somehow constantly smiling even while he spoke and shaking Peter’s hand with slightly more enthusiasm than he would consider strictly necessary. “The person from your office who called my office said that you wanted to talk to me about my stolen paintings? That your team couldn’t find anything they all have in common so you thought there might be something personal connecting them?”

Peter gave a strained smile as Bruce Wayne let go of his hand. “Yes, that’s right Mr Wayne. Is there anything you can tell us about the history of the paintings that might not be in our files?”

“Please, call me Bruce!” he beamed. “I suppose you already have all the normal things, like when my family first acquired them, where they’ve been loaned to and when. I can tell you that the Kandinsky is the only one that was purchased by my parents and they spent millions on it, and the Degas belonged to my mother’s family, the Kanes, not the Waynes, but it was given to my parents as a wedding gift from my grandparents because she loved it as a child. Enormous tax write-offs both, I’m sure.”

Peter, who had just been thinking the same thing, tried not to look startled. He had been slowly brought around to a love of art by his wife, and although he would never admit it, Neal, but he investigated too many white collar criminals not to be excruciatingly aware that almost the entire fine arts market was one big con designed to make rich people richer. The tax break you got from lending your painting to be publically displayed at a tiny art museum was nothing compared to the insurance settlement you got when your painting was stolen from a tiny art museum that couldn’t afford great security. Ever since he had figured that out, Peter had somewhat hated that his job was to go after the people like Neal who stole the paintings, rather than the people who did the entirely legal thing of shooting an art museum’s insurance through the roof for a fat cheque. And there was nothing illegal about going to auctions for artworks by artists that you already owned work by, bidding to drive up the price with no intention of winning, and causing the value of your own painting to skyrocket when the auction price is higher than expected.

“Is there anything else you can tell us about the history of the paintings in your family? How long have they all been on display here in your New York building?”

“I’m not sure off the top of my head, we put a lot of the paintings the family owned into WE offices across the country years ago now, they were just sitting in the attic in their storage boxes before that apart from the ones displayed in the house. But even a house the size of Wayne Manor only has so many walls, hah hah!”

Bruce Wayne actually made the sounds ‘hah hah’ instead of laughing. The man could not possibly be real.

“You know, Agent Burke, I bet my butler has a record somewhere of what paintings have been where,” Bruce Wayne continued. “He’s awfully good like that, isn’t he chum?”

That last part was addressed to Neal, who, Peter just realised, had been uncharacteristically silent. Normally, Neal would have been talking a mile a minute about the art, and probably trying to rub the billionaire the wrong way like it was his job to cause Peter problems with the higher-ups, but he hadn’t said a single word since they got on the elevator.

Neal gave a big, dramatic sigh. “I’m sure that Alfred has a list like that somewhere, not that we need it. You could have just called, you know?”

Peter and all of his finely honed detective skills detected that he was missing something.

“Would you have answered?” Bruce Wayne said, his voice somehow suddenly very different. Peter realised that it no longer had the somewhat cartoonish quality that had been present since he introduced himself.

Neal laughed in a way that sounded almost bitter, although Peter couldn’t imagine why. How did his CI know one of the richest men in America? “Yeah, you’re right. But you had options that didn’t involve completely blowing my cover like this, and you didn’t use them.”

Bruce Wayne laughed again, but this time it sounded genuine. “I think you know that this wasn’t me, chum. I try not to encourage her in this sort of thing. Your younger siblings, on the other hand, were only too happy to tell her she could have fun testing the security here if they got to pick which paintings she moved back to the manor, and you know she can’t resist a challenge or an opportunity to make my children think she’s cool.”

Peter really didn’t know what was going on, and his head was somewhat spinning from trying to figure it all out, but he did catch that last part. “Hold on, are you saying that the paintings weren’t stolen, and they’ve just been moved back to your private residence? You know that wasting law enforcement’s time carries a hefty penalty, Mr Wayne, even if a fine wouldn’t mean much to you.”

Bruce Wayne turned sharply towards him, as if he had forgotten that he was there and was surprised to hear his voice again. “I assure you, Agent Burke, these paintings were stolen. A world-class thief circumvented every part of our security and took them without the owner’s, my, permission. The fact that they resurfaced this morning on the walls of my bedroom is unrelated to the fact that a theft did occur, and I know that the thief in question would be very offended if you suggested that there was any kind of inside job here.”

“Professional pride, she taught me that,” Neal said, almost reverently. “And if you do have to flirt with someone to get a keycard, make it the person who would be the most embarrassed to admit it afterwards, and that way you give yourself the best chance at becoming a legend.”

Giving Neal a look, Bruce Wayne continued. “However, the fact that the paintings are no longer missing and are, once again, in the possession of their owner, I can see why you might feel as though you and your team have wasted their valuable time. My children will be punished accordingly, and they will all write letters of apology to your department.”

Peter was still mentally playing catch up. “So the thief who stole these paintings was some sort of mentor to you, Neal? And has some sort of relationship with you and your children, Mr Wayne?”

Neal gave him a sheepish look. “So, Peter, there’s no way you won’t put this together eventually from what you’ve already heard of this conversation, so I might as well tell you. That first question? Is really encompassed by the second question.”

Both of the dark haired, blue-eyed men stood there looking at him, waiting for him to put the pieces together. And he felt like his brain was smoking from how fast the cogs were turning, but he got there eventually. Bruce Wayne and Neal obviously having a pre-existing relationship, Neal knowing the name of the Wayne’s butler, referring to Neal having younger siblings who were involved and to his own children being involved. Peter felt like he was adding 2 and 2 and making 27, but there wasn’t another way around it.

“Neal, you’re one of Bruce Wayne’s children?”

Neal smiled awkwardly and opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off before he could by a voice coming from around the corner of the corridor. “Well, the Fed finally put the pieces together after they were handed to him. Now, will he get the part that was quite literally spelled out for him? The anticipation is killing me!”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much for reading, and thanks again to the lovely people that this fic is gifted to, and to the whole Undercover Bats server. If you liked this, please give this story a kudos and leave a comment to let me know what you think! I really do treasure each and every comment! 
> 
> If you enjoyed this story, I have also written several other Batfamily stories and recently started a series of Julie and the Phantoms one-shots all in alternate universes where Julie's mum is alive, so if that sounds like your sort of thing, check it out!


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